


You're Turning Into Something You Are Not

by dr_ducktator



Category: Haven - Fandom
Genre: Angst, M/M, Pre-Series, Prom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-09
Updated: 2014-05-09
Packaged: 2018-01-24 03:48:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,607
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1590563
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dr_ducktator/pseuds/dr_ducktator
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's prom night, and Duke is setting himself up for heartbreak. But ever since Nathan kissed him, Duke can't bring himself to care that Nathan will only end up hurting him. No matter how badly he treats Duke, Nathan's the best thing Duke never had.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You're Turning Into Something You Are Not

**Author's Note:**

> I wanted to write a Duke/Nathan prom fic, and like every damn story I write about these two, it descended into angst-ville immediately. This is inspired, in part, by Season 1's "Butterfly."  
> Also, I may have taken some timeline liberties with Radiohead. Oh, and the title is from Radiohead's "High and Dry."

Prom night. Prom. Night. The whole school had been obsessed with the upcoming dance, as if a single night with music and nice clothes held the answers to every teenage question of the universe. Duke couldn’t understand the hype. He hated dressing up. He hated anything school-related.

No, that was a lie. He hated everything school-related except Nathan, and the only reason Nathan was school-related was because it was mostly only during school hours that he got to see him. Even though their enmity had eased since the thumbtack incident in the third grade, they were not what you’d call best friends. True, they did travel in the same social circles sometimes—a small town like Haven forces that—but they didn’t really hang out just the two of them. Well, they didn’t until about a month ago.

It was a month ago that Duke’s life changed forever. It was a month ago that Nathan had backed Duke up against the wall outside the Haven police department and kissed him. It wasn’t just any kiss, either. Even a month on, Duke could still feel it. Nathan had kissed him like he wanted to climb inside him, like he wanted to be the breath in his lungs, like it was a first kiss he’d been waiting years for, like it was a kiss that would never happen again, so he wanted to take full advantage of the opportunity.

Duke stared at himself in the bathroom mirror, his fingers resting lightly on his lips as he remembered how it had felt to have Nathan pressed against him. It was a kiss he didn’t even know he’d been waiting for, but once it happened, it was a kiss he wanted to replicate every day forever. It was a kiss that confused everything and slotted everything everything into place, too.

Duke cleared his throat and ran a hand through his hair. He refused to wear a suit, but he’d be damned if he was going to miss Nathan in one. That was how he found himself breathing deeply to calm the nerves that made his stomach lurch every other minute. He was going to prom. He wasn’t sure what the hell he planned to do once he got there, but he figured, like always, something would come to him. And though he wouldn’t wear a suit, he did manage to dig a clean button-up shirt from his closet. If it were up to him, he’d just wear his favorite, worn-out Doors t-shirt, some jeans, and his Chucks, but they wouldn’t let him into the prom if he showed up looking like that.

So, he pulled on the one pair of decent trousers he owned, slipped a black tie around his neck, and reached for his Converse. He wasn’t going to be completely un-Duke; he had to maintain a shred of dignity, after all. He needed to feel at least partly like himself since he hadn’t been himself since that night with Nathan. The whole thing lasted barely a minute, but after Nathan pulled away, stuttered out an “I’m sorry,” and briskly walked off, Duke had spent the weeks leading up to tonight thinking of how Nathan had shattered him completely. 

Nathan had messed up his head. He hadn’t been sleeping well, and Duke prided himself on being able to sleep anywhere, anytime; he followed Nathan around school, sat with him at lunch, and even walked home with him every day, hoping Nathan would say something about what had happened. Duke even resisted rising to Nathan’s snotty verbal jabs. One day, two days ago, to be exact, they’d arrived at Nathan’s front door.

“Well, I’ll see you Monday, Nathan,” Duke said as he turned to leave.

“Duke, wait.”

Duke turned back to look at Nathan. He was afraid to see his face, because if Nathan had that look, that sort of kicked puppy look, Duke knew he’d spill his guts in an instant.

“Yeah?”

Nathan looked nervous. “I’m taking Hannah Driscoll to prom Saturday.” His eyes were downcast.

That Nathan was taking the Rev’s daughter to prom wasn’t a secret, but the way Nathan said it had hit Duke hard. He’d sounded resigned and apologetic, like he knew all along Duke had been driving himself crazy over the kiss, and it was all for nothing. Duke felt a lump form in his throat. He swallowed it, and it hurt. It all hurt.

He forced cheerfulness. “She’s a nice girl, Nathan. Just watch out for her dad. He’s a crazy son-of-a-bitch.” Again, he turned to leave.

“Duke, hold on.”

Duke stopped, dropped his head, and sighed. He’d never been able to walk away from Nathan, even before the kiss. The kiss and how he felt about it, seemed to have explained why. 

“What is it, Nathan?” He didn’t feign cheer this time.

“Are you going?”

“To prom?”

“Yeah.”

Duke chuckled. “Nathan, what about me says ‘prom attendee’ to you?”

Nathan smiled weakly. “I just wondered. I mean, it’s a rite of passage sort of thing, and you’ve always been a sucker for traditions. You even do the whole mistletoe bit at Christmas.”

Duke had readied a smart-ass remark about being as non-traditional as they come, but he lost the words as soon as Nathan mentioned mistletoe. He remembered. Duke always thought Nathan had just blocked that memory altogether. Duke had kissed Nathan under the mistletoe as a dare when they were kids. There was no way Nathan was talking about anything else. Duke could only interpret this in one way: Nathan wanted him to go to prom. 

Duke was bolstered by a small feeling of hope. “You know, now that you mention it, I was thinking of going just so I could spike the punchbowl. There’s a tradition that should never be allowed to die out.” He didn’t wait for Nathan’s response. He turned and went home.

That was how Duke had been suckered into going to prom. Well, that, and the chance to see Nathan in a suit. He did like Hannah Driscoll. She was always nice to everyone, and she seemed so genuine about it. He knew seeing her with Nathan at the prom would be hard, though.

But as Duke walked into the school’s gymnasium and saw Nathan looking beautiful in a tuxedo with his hand on Hannah’s waist and his mouth to her ear, he had no idea until that moment how hard seeing them together would be. 

He wandered over to a far wall and leaned there, unable to stop watching them. They danced to a couple of slow songs; Duke hadn’t paid any attention to what they were because he was too focused on the way Nathan was touching Hannah. They were so close to each other, and it made Duke feel like he couldn’t breathe. Nathan kept looking around to see if there were any chaperones paying attention to them; when they weren’t, Nathan would kiss Hannah and run his hand too far down her back. 

Impossibly, he pulled her even closer to him, and Duke heard himself mumble, “Christ, Nathan, why don’t you just fuck her right here in front of everyone?” 

Someone standing near him said, “What?” but Duke pushed away from the wall, said, “Mind your own business,” and walked up to Nathan and Hannah. He knew he was being ridiculous, but watching them together was too much.

Duke must have looked murderous, because as soon as he approached them, Nathan whispered something to Hannah and she nodded and walked out of the gym.

“Hey Duke," Nathan said too brightly. "Did you spike the punch? I’ve had three glasses so far, and I don’t feel a thing.” He smiled and was clearly waiting for Duke to respond. When he didn’t, he said, “That was a joke, Duke. Remember when I couldn’t feel stuff? Okay, sorry, bad joke. Anyway..."

“Cut the clever bullshit, Nathan. Why did you want me here?” Duke crowded into Nathan’s space.

Nathan stood up taller. “I don’t know what you mean.”

Duke laughed mirthlessly. “You don’t know what I mean? What about that little bitch down memory lane you took me on a couple days ago with the mistletoe and tradition? Why did you bring that up? Why would you give a shit if I came to prom or not? And hell, while I’m on a roll here with the questions, why the fuck did you kiss me and then act like nothing ever happened?”

Nathan’s eyes grew impossibly wide, then narrowed. “I said I was sorry.”

“I never asked for an apology, Nathan. I just want to know what the fuck's happening.”

“Look, Duke, it was a mistake, okay? Can we forget it? I don’t know what I was doing. I’d just gotten in a fight with the Chief, and I wasn’t thinking. I’m sorry.”

“Still not asking for an apology, Nathan. I’m asking for an explanation. You don’t get in a fight with the Chief and then go kiss the guy you’ve sort of hated your whole life. There's no connection.”

Nathan’s gaze fell. He said something, but Duke couldn’t hear it. The music had finally penetrated his concentration, and “High and Dry” by Radiohead was playing. He only really recognized it because he’d been listening to _The Bends_ non-stop for the last month. It was his album for Nathan.

Duke refocused. “Sorry, what?”

Nathan met Duke’s eyes. “You do when the fight is _about_ the guy you’ve sort of hated your whole life.”

Duke’s adrenaline spiked again, but this time it was accompanied by nervous hope.

“You were fighting about me?”

Nathan glanced at the door of the gym and waved. Hannah must be waiting.

“Can we not talk about this now, Duke? I need to go with Hannah.”

Duke had had it with Nathan’s evasiveness. It had been a long month. His temper boiled over. “Why, so you can take her somewhere romantic and fuck her? I mean, that’s what you do on prom night, right?”

Nathan didn’t respond, which was surprising. In the past, Nathan had punched him in the face for saying less. He just looked a little hurt.

“Nathan. Shit. I’m sorry. I’m just trying to get all this figured out. Just. Don’t go with Hannah, okay? Come with me. Come to my house. You know no one is ever there.” 

The look on Nathan’s face told Duke he was actually considering it. But, Nathan’s politeness won out. “I can’t, Duke, she’s my date.” And he walked out of the gym.

Duke turned to watch him go. “High and Dry” was nearly over, and as he stood alone at the prom with couples holding each other closely, he’d never felt like more of a cliché in his life. 

On his way out the door, Duke stopped by the punchbowl and dumped the contents of his dad’s flask into it. He’d miss the outcome of what he’d just done, but he wasn’t about to let Nathan ruin a tradition.

____________

When he got home, Duke poured himself a glass of whiskey and collapsed into the decrepit overstuffed chair in his living room. He thought about turning on the TV, but he was feeling like shit, and he wanted to wallow in his misery. How he’d ever let himself hope that Nathan actually felt something for him, he’d never know. Instead of turning on the television, he turned on his CD player. 

If he was going to wallow, he was going to do it right. He pressed play on “High and Dry,” clicked the repeat button so the song would be on an endless loop, and returned to the chair. As he listened, he mindlessly picked at the stuffing coming out of the disintegrating arm of the chair. He sipped his whiskey. He felt like an old man. And, he did everything he could not to think about what Nathan and Hannah were probably getting up to. He wouldn’t let himself get drunk, though, because booze made him numb. He wanted to feel this.

____________ 

At some point Duke must have fallen asleep, because someone pounding on the back door woke him. He was only partially awake—in that space between dreaming and consciousness—so he wasn’t sure if what he was hearing was really happening. Slowly, he came out of the haze, and over the still-playing Radiohead, he could hear the pounding clearer. 

He glanced at the clock on the wall; it said 6. Duke had slept through the night. The banging on the door intensified. “All right! Jesus, just give me a minute!” He shuffled through the kitchen to the back door, where the bluish dawn light made the figure outside eerie-looking and shadowy. Duke pushed back the curtain on the door and felt his stomach drop: it was Nathan. 

For a nanosecond, Duke held an internal debate about whether to open the door to Nathan, but he knew resistance was pointless. A kiss had changed his life forever, had made him realize he’d always loved Nathan, and had made him realize, just then, that there wasn’t anything he wouldn’t do for Nathan. Hell, he’d probably kill for him if it came to it.

He opened the door, and with a sweeping motion of his right arm, invited Nathan inside. As he walked by, Duke could smell the night’s events on him, and he understood that what he’d spent the evening trying to pretend wasn’t happening had happened. His heart hurt.

“It’s 6 o’clock in the morning, Nathan. What the hell are you doing here?”

Nathan walked into the living room where Radiohead was still on. He didn’t speak. Duke wasn’t a morning person on the best of days, so he was quickly becoming more and more annoyed. He followed Nathan, who was now standing at the front door of the house with his hand on the doorknob.

“Well?” Duke asked. “Did you want something, or were you just doing a walk-through?”

Nathan’s hand dropped from the door as he glanced at the CD player. “High and Dry” had started again. 

“I do want something, Duke.” 

Then, Nathan walked up to him, looked him in the eye, put his hand on the back of his neck, and pulled him into a bruising kiss. Their second kiss. To Duke, this kiss felt even more urgent than the first. It felt desperate. It felt loaded with meaning.

Just as Duke was about to grab Nathan and hold on for dear life, Nathan pulled away. Duke was too stunned to speak. Nathan’s kisses, it seemed, had that effect on him. Duke saw tears in Nathan’s eyes. He saw pain there, too. And conflict. 

Again, Duke let him walk away, though this time there was no apology from Nathan, just a gently closed door. He watched out the front door as Nathan disappeared around the corner, then rested his forehead against the door and sighed. At that moment he understood that Nathan would always be the one walking away.

And at that moment, too, Duke understood that no matter how hollowed out and desperate Nathan made him feel, he’d let Nathan do it over and over, probably forever. Because he’d rather hold on to the delusion that Nathan might actually stick around one of these times than accept the reality of the situation. He was just a curiosity to Nathan; he was an issue Nathan needed to work out. That was it. Just the same, Duke wanted Nathan desperately, even though he knew he’d never have him. Duke had spent his whole life never being able to have the things he really wanted. Everyone walked away. 

Everyone.


End file.
